" So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings—for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison— arrived at the cell of which he was in search. He has escaped. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. “Have you not heard?” she said. " "My conscience acquits me of all share in the offence," replied Jack, humbly.
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